


Can I Get an Amen

by Petrichora_Vellichor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (but it's to piss off a homophobe so it's for a good cause), (which gets shut the fuck down), Alternate Universe - College/University, Bees, Bi-/Pansexual Balthazar, Gen, Homophobic Language, POV Balthazar, Slightly Hippie Cas, Very Exaggerated Make-Out Session Between Friends, kind of a mixture of Endverse!Cas and Crazy!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22077538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petrichora_Vellichor/pseuds/Petrichora_Vellichor
Summary: Making out with your friend to piss off a homophobe in the university quad, in this economy? It’s more likely than you think. Especially if your name is Balthazar and you haven’t had your morning coffee.
Relationships: Balthazar & Castiel (Supernatural)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 41





	Can I Get an Amen

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a Tumblr prompt.

When Sam’s alarm went off at seven a.m., Balthazar’s first thought upon jarring awake was that he was going to throw the bloody phone out the window. (He didn’t, because doing so would have required him to get up, but it was a near thing.) Balthazar had no idea what sort of cosmic fuck-up he’d committed in a previous life to get landed with a roommate for whom going for an early morning run beat out having a lie-in, but as he grumbled under his breath while Sam rose and dressed, he felt fairly certain that fate was having a laugh at his expense.

Sam, the bastard, found this all very amusing.

“You know,” Sam said mildly as he sat on the edge of his bed and did up his shoelaces, seemingly impervious to the death-glare Balthazar was giving him, “it wouldn’t kill you to get up a few hours before your first class. You don’t even have to exercise: you could just, like, read or get some extra studying in or something.”

Balthazar snorted. “I _could_ , yes, but why on earth would I,” he said, stretching luxuriously beneath his sheets, “when I could just as easily stay in bed and dream of having a _ménage à_ -whatever-French-for- _twelve_ is?”

“Okay, one, it’s _douze_ , and two, ew. Also, don’t even pretend like you could keep up with that many women.”

“Mm, bold of you to assume they were all women.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “ _Any_ way,” he said, standing, “I’m gonna go. Have fun dreaming about naked people.”

He left, and Balthazar promptly buried his head under his pillow, determined to fall back asleep. He gave up after half an hour of angry tossing and turning, rising in a huff and stomping over to his dresser. If he was doomed to be awake this early, then he might as well go down to the quad and fetch himself something caffeinated to drink. 

Ten minutes later, he was trudging down the steps outside the dorm building and mulling over various forms of revenge—his current favorite consisted of tossing out one of Sam’s beloved running shoes, then watching with glee as Sam searched for it in vain—when he heard a voice from the lawn to his left:

“You’re up early.”

Balthazar turned and spotted his friend Cas, who was currently dressed in a loose-fitting shirt and sweats; he was barefoot, balancing on one leg with the other tucked up under him, palms pressed together, and was peering at Balthazar with a mixture of surprise and amusement. “I didn’t know you even existed before noon.”

Balthazar sighed. “Yes, well, annoying roommates with early alarms are annoying.”

“Ah.” Cas shifted into a different pose, placing both feet flat on the grass and raising his arms above his head. “And here I thought I’d finally convinced you to try yoga with me.”

“Cassie, the day I willingly twist myself into a pretzel while both clothed _and_ sober is the day I forgive you for making me sit through three hours of that god-awful _Titanic_ movie.”

“You’re just mad because you hate Celine Dion.”

“It’s not her I hate, it’s that bloody song! And furthermore,” Balthazar added, pointedly ignoring Cas’s snicker, “our dear Rose’s heart wouldn’t have had to _go on_ if she’d just done a better job of making room for Jack on that piece of fucking debris.”

“It was a door.”

“It was a travesty, is what it was, and I’ll thank you to quit bringing it up. Now then,” he said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the quad, “I’m going for a latte. Care to join me? Or have you still got to do your downward doggy-style or what have you?”

Cas rolled his eyes and reached for his sandals. “It’s downward _dog_ , and no, I’m done.”

“Brilliant, you’re buying.”

They headed toward the quad, Cas talking animatedly about some new Save the Bees project he and a few others in the Environmental Club were hoping to kick off soon. Balthazar, who was busy trying to decide if he wanted a muffin or a scone with his latte, was only half listening, a decision he regretted when he heard Cas say, with a hint of smugness, “I knew I could count on you,” and, after a quick mental replay, realized that he’d just agreed to attend an all-day event that coming weekend. _Fuck._ He opened his mouth to give an excuse when a commotion ahead caught his attention.

A small crowd had gathered at the edge of the quad; as Balthazar and Cas neared, Balthazar saw that at its center was a middle-aged brunette woman dressed in formal clothing who was speaking into a megaphone:

“...TIME HAS COME TO RENOUNCE YOUR SINFUL LIFESTYLE AND REMEMBER THAT ONLY THROUGH GOD’S GRACE CAN YOU ENTER THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN, FOR THE BIBLE TELLS US THAT MAN SHALL NOT LIE WITH MEN AS HE DOES WITH WOMEN, THAT IT IS AN AB—”

“—SOLUTELY DELIGHTFUL WAY TO SPEND A FRIDAY NIGHT!” interjected Balthazar, causing the woman to pause and several heads to turn in their direction.

The woman lowered her megaphone. She looked from Balthazar to Cas and back again. “I am here to spread the Lord’s teachings to you and others like you, those who have been led astray by immoral temptations of the flesh. You should thank me.”

Balthazar let out a bitter laugh. “ _Thank_ you? What on earth for?”

The woman frowned. “I told you, I’m here to spread the Lord’s teachings—” 

Balthazar cut her off. “You did, twice. Good for you.” He crossed his arms. “But, you see, we’re a litter-free campus, so it’d be lovely if you took your rubbish elsewhere.”

Several of the surrounding students cheered. The woman glanced around, seemingly unsure. “I have a permit. I’m allowed to be here.”

“We’re students,” said Cas. “We pay money to be here.” Even more people cheered. “And incidentally, the line you’re referring to, Leviticus 18:22, condemns pedophilia, not homosexuality.” 

Balthazar turned to Cas. “What, really?”

“Yes. The original wording translates to ‘man shall not lie with young boys’.” Cas regarded the woman coolly. “Also, since you claim to concern yourself with the word of God, I’d check the tag on that suit. Leviticus 19:19 prohibits wearing garments that mix linen and wool.”

The woman pressed her lips together in a thin line. “I will not be lectured on my faith by a young man who has clearly lost his way.”

“I’m not lecturing you,” responded Cas. “I’m simply telling you what the Bible says.”

“You mock me.”

“You do that to yourself.”

The woman scowled, eyes boring into Cas. “There are places that can help you, programs that can teach you to make more Godly choices.”

“You’re referring to so-called conversion therapy,” said Cas, and though he was still speaking calmly, there was an edge to his voice that Balthazar rarely heard, “a practice that has been discredited by every leading expert on human sexuality for over two decades.”

“Despite what you think, it _can_ be effective if you’re willing, if you _want_ to be fixed—”

“We’re not broken,” said Cas. “Your beliefs are.”

“Now wait just a minute—”

“Oh, piss off!” snapped Balthazar. Cas might have had the patience to deal with this sort of thing uncaffeinated, but _he_ most certainly did not. “Aren’t there more important things you could spend your energy bitching about? Take bees, for example: they’re dropping dead at an alarming rate, which could have frankly _catastrophic_ effects on our food supply, but no, you’re right, let’s get all dressed up and tell gay people they’re going to hell because they have the audacity to be themselves, that’s _clearly_ the bigger priority.” 

Cas gave him a surprised smile. “You _were_ listening about the bees.”

“Of course I was listening, I’m a wonderful friend like that. Speaking of,” said Balthazar, turning to Cas with a raised eyebrow, “fancy a friendly snog to piss off this hag?”

Cas thought a moment, then shrugged. “Why not?”

“That’s the spirit,” said Balthazar bracingly, grabbing a fistful of Cas’s shirt and pulling him in for a kiss. 

There was no real heat to it—at the end of the day, Balthazar knew Cas was about as romantically interested in him as he was in Cas; that is to say, not at all—but in for a penny, in for a pound. Balthazar closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Cas’s shoulders, letting out an exaggerated moan; he could feel Cas practically shaking with suppressed laughter and gave him a very subtle pinch. Cas let out a muffled snort before gasping, “Oh, _Balthazar!_ ” in mock passion and pressing their lips more firmly together; he even groaned a bit, which at which point it was Balthazar’s turn to bite back a chuckle.

Thankfully, their tactic worked: the students around them erupted into applause, and scarcely five seconds had passed before the woman let out an affronted huff and stormed off. Once the sound of her heels had sufficiently faded, Balthazar cracked an eye open and, with the visual confirmation that she was gone, gave Cas a tap on the shoulder, stepping back with a grin. “Well, that went swimmingly, wouldn’t you say?”

Cas looked off in the direction the woman had gone. “It did seem to have the desired effect, although,” he added, lips twitching in a poorly concealed smirk as he reached into his pocket and produced a tube of organic lip balm, “you probably need this more than I do.”

Balthazar rolled his eyes. “Oh, we’re giving post-snogging critiques, are we? Here, then.” He took the lip balm and, in exchange, held out a small tin of mints. “You _absolutely_ need this more than I do.”

Cas snorted, accepting the mints and making a show of popping one into his mouth; Balthazar, for his part, applied a liberal amount of lip balm. “Right, then,” he said, smacking his lips together and pocketing the tube, “coffee?”


End file.
